J.R. Sinclair
December 25th 07, 09:16 PM
turned.
'Here we are,' she said.
He was facing her at several paces" distance. As yet he did not dare
move nearer to her.
'I didn't want to say anything in the lane,' she went on, 'in case
there's a mike hidden there. I don't suppose there is, but there could be.
There's always the chance of one of those swine recognizing your voice.
We're all right here.'
He still had not the courage to approach her. 'We're all right here?'
he repeated stupidly.
'Yes. Look at the trees.' They were small ashes, which at some time
had been cut down and had sprouted up again into a forest of poles, none of
them thicker than one's wrist. 'There's nothing big enough to hide a mike
in. Besides, I've been here before.'
They were only making conversation. He had managed to move closer to
her now. She stood before him very upright, with a smile on her face that
looked faintly ironical, as though she were wondering why he was so slow to
act. The bluebells had cascaded on to the ground. They seemed to have
fallen of their own accord. He took her hand.
'Would you believe,' he said, 'that till this moment I didn't know
what colour your eyes were?' They were brown, he noted, a rather light
shade of brown, with dark lashes. 'Now that
'Here we are,' she said.
He was facing her at several paces" distance. As yet he did not dare
move nearer to her.
'I didn't want to say anything in the lane,' she went on, 'in case
there's a mike hidden there. I don't suppose there is, but there could be.
There's always the chance of one of those swine recognizing your voice.
We're all right here.'
He still had not the courage to approach her. 'We're all right here?'
he repeated stupidly.
'Yes. Look at the trees.' They were small ashes, which at some time
had been cut down and had sprouted up again into a forest of poles, none of
them thicker than one's wrist. 'There's nothing big enough to hide a mike
in. Besides, I've been here before.'
They were only making conversation. He had managed to move closer to
her now. She stood before him very upright, with a smile on her face that
looked faintly ironical, as though she were wondering why he was so slow to
act. The bluebells had cascaded on to the ground. They seemed to have
fallen of their own accord. He took her hand.
'Would you believe,' he said, 'that till this moment I didn't know
what colour your eyes were?' They were brown, he noted, a rather light
shade of brown, with dark lashes. 'Now that